The God Complex
by Helvetica Black
Summary: He was going to find her. Bella was sure of it. He'd search all the alleys and corners in the world if that's what it took. After all, creators always fell in love with their creations, and she was his. (Warning: CONTAINS RAPE AND OTHER MATURE THEMES)
1. Serendipity

He wouldn't exactly call it serendipity, no. It wasn't serendipitous that Dr. Carlisle Cullen had created a substance that could accelerate healing in humans. There was no serendipity in that, for the vampire had been tirelessly working on perfecting that substance for decades, and with a mind as brilliant as his, he knew it was only a matter of time before he perfected it. But the doctor didn't know yet that he had been successful. The serum didn't seem to work on his other patients when he snuck it into the treatment regimens of the unknowing humans. He didn't expect it to work on Isabella Swan.

It also wasn't serendipity that had a hand in the Swan girl's grave injuries from being tortured by the vampire James. That was just bad luck. Really bad luck on her part.

Earlier, the doctor had poured the substance in a clear glass bottle and placed it on the bedside table, and then went to look for cottons to apply it with. When he returned, the liquid in the bottle was gone, and Isabella Swan was healing with exaggerated speed right before his eyes. The serum was odorless and clear, so she must have mistaken it for water in a bottle.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen was a cynical mind, and he didn't believe in childish delusions such as fate and serendipity. He believed in persevering to achieve goals, and he believed in the value of truly working for success. A man only got what he worked for. One only managed to create things he tried to create. He believed in a great deal many things, this doctor, but he didn't believe in serendipity. He didn't believe in stumbling upon discoveries. For many years it was how he saw things, and for many years nothing had made him question the things he believed in or made him believe in things he scoffed at.

However, as he slowly stared and marveled at the way Isabella Swan's wounds closed and healed scarlessly, at the way the bruises on her skin faded and disappeared, and at the speed at which the blush of health colored her cheeks, he smiled, giddy with happiness, and thanked whatever it was—serendipity or not—that made it all possible.

* * *

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	2. Beautiful Flesh

**NOW**

Even with her eyes closed, she was wide awake. Wide awake with worry, with fear, with guilt. She couldn't sleep, and she thought she should try, but like the countless of other nights she'd tried to sleep, she found herself reliving her torture in a certain vampire's underground lair.

A deep sense of foreboding suddenly plagued her gut, and her eyes flared open in alarm.

"Damn," she cursed, pushing herself off the hard bed and running to the closet to pack her clothes. She had just started settling down in the place. She hadn't expected him to find her so quickly. She was careful, not like the way she was months before. This time, she took all the necessary precautions and made arrangements so she would stay hidden from him. She chose an abandoned cabin in Vancouver and made sure that nobody would see her face every time she went out to buy food. She loathed that she was still human enough to need food. Every trip to the nearest convenience store was an inconvenience to her.

She looked out the window and at the pitch black winter sky. If the feeling in her gut was accurate, he had to be close. Dangerously close. Probably no more than ten miles away. And in the dark, he had the edge over her.

"Damn," she cursed again. She could be just as quick as any vampire—because she could push her muscles to their limit and not feel exhaustion, which meant her limit was pretty high—but her eyes were still as human as they were. When she goes out into the dark and frozen forest, she was going to be blind.

She made the bed in rueful silence. She lost her ability to sleep many years ago. With her body's constant healing and regeneration, she hardly felt the need for it. And with a vampire set on her trail, sleep became a luxury she couldn't afford. But she missed the reprieve it gave her. She missed the few hours of blissful nothingness that came with it.

She opened the door and warily looked around her, at the dense and icy forest that surrounded the cabin. The cold was never going to be a problem to her—she could have gone naked into the snow and spent hours out there without freezing—but she liked keeping herself warm. She remembered arriving in Forks and hating how cold and wet it was. Remembering was all she could do now, because she can't return to Forks. It was where he and his family lived. Forks was no longer a place of sweet memories for her. It became a place that reminded her of nothing but her father's death and the excruciating torture that his murderer subjected her to.

She inhaled the freezing air and took off into the night.

She ran until she found a shopping strip. There was once a time when she was stupid enough to believe that being with other humans made her safe from the vampire. She couldn't have been more wrong. Her stupidity cost her Charlie's life, and her recapture.

Being around humans may not have been enough to keep the vampire away, but it was the best way to make a vampire lose her trail. While her scent mingled among the scents of other people and the pungent odors of civilization, she bought a new set of clothes to wear and bathed her skin in perfume. It worked once before. She only hoped it would work one more time.

Leaving the patch of civilization, she walked into a dark alley and into the night, clad in a black sweater and a copper coat, a red duffel bag in hand.

"You shouldn't be alone on Christmas eve, miss. T'is the season to be jolly, after all." a deep voice said from behind her.

She turned around and looked at the man who had spoken. He was much taller than her, handsome, and smelled painfully familiar. His sandy brown hair was thrown carelessly around his head like a halo. Pale, beautiful and red-eyed, he could have only been one thing:

Vampire.

Heart pounding in her chest, she quickly thought of ways to lose him. He had her scent and was right next to her, so running was out of the question.

"I bathed in perfume. I should smell repulsive." She whispered, her pace brisk and quickening. "Why would you want to feed from me?"

A hand shot out and grabbed her elbow. The vampire made her face him. His expression was a mask of fury and confusion. "What do you know about my kind?" he hissed.

"More than humans should," she said. "But then again, I'm not human."

The vampire sniffed the air around her neck and she stiffened.

"You're human," he growled. "Artificial scents can't disguise yours. Why do you lie?"

She sighed and exposed her neck at the vampire. She didn't have time to linger in the place. She knew that the vampire—the other vampire who was hunting her—was closer. She had to run. "Okay, I get it. You're really thirsty. Why don't you just quit it with the questions and bite me?"

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "You wish to die? Because I don't plan to turn you into one of my kind."

She rolled her eyes at him. He couldn't turn her even if he wanted to. Vampire venom just didn't work on her. "Whatever. Just drink."

He swallowed and looked at her throat hungrily. "It will hurt." he whispered as a warning.

"That's nothing new." she said coolly.

He swiftly grabbed her by the shoulders and bit her neck, his teeth immediately crushing bone as he drank greedily. She didn't scream as he nearly drained her of blood. The whole affair was a red, wet and painful one, but she had experienced far worse.

When the vampire was satisfied, he made a motion to snap her neck, but she held a hand up.

"Wait." She said. Not that it would have mattered if he broke her neck and killed her—she would have come back to life anyway—but she wasn't fond of pain, and from her previous experiences with it, she knew that a broken neck hurt like the devil and took longer to heal than other injuries. She took a few moments to catch her breath, and as she did, the bite on her neck healed in a matter of seconds. There was no mark or evidence that it even happened.

She glared at him. "See? I'm not human. Now that you've had your fill, go away."

The vampire stood still, staring at the sight of her quick recovery, his face blank and emotionless. "What are you?"

"I have no idea, but I know what you are. You're a messy eater." She quipped. "I've seen pigs eat with more finesse. Now, wipe my blood off your mouth and go away."

"You're immortal," he surmised, the back of his hand brushing his bloody lips and cheeks. "You're a true immortal."

"I've heard someone call me that once or twice," she agreed. She fixed her sweater and coat. "But between you and me, I don't know what the fuck I am."

"Where are you going?" asked the vampire as she began to walk away from him, further into the shadows of the woods.

She smiled. "Away. Somewhere hidden."

He quickly followed her. "Take me with you."

"Now why would you want me to do that?" she asked. She didn't mention that she couldn't outrun him anyway with him so close to her.

"I..." the vampire began, confusion marring his handsome face. He didn't quite understand himself why he wanted to be with her. "I'm bored. You intrigue me. I can feed from you and you won't die. I want you."

She sniffed. "You and a dozen other vampires."

"You will take me with you, then?"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

She looked at the shadows around them, her brown eyes distant and full of sad nostalgia. "I don't really care what happens to you, but I'm not that heartless that I'd want you dead. And that's what you'll be if I let you tag along. If he finds you with me, he won't hesitate to kill you."

She ran faster then, surprising the vampire with her apparent speed. He easily caught up to her, his pace slowing down to match hers as he reached her. They ran together in silence, until the night became day, and she had to stop to eat. He studied her quietly as she ate, every bite she made on the apple seeming to stir a strange feeling in him. In the light of day, he saw the smooth skin of her cheeks blush with health and the way her lips puckered as she ate the apple, and he noticed he had a reaction to her that wasn't all predator. He found himself wanting to wrap himself around her with every second he spent with her. He realized he wanted to be near her if only to breathe in her scent. She was beautiful, and the vampire liked what he saw. He glared at the monster in his trousers and willed it to settle down.

"Who won't hesitate to kill me?" he asked, unable to continue with the silence she seemed intent on keeping.

She pulled out another apple from her bag. "My husband, sort of."

"You're married?" he asked, surprised.

"It's a lot more complicated than that," she said. "He's not just my husband. He's my father too, in a way."

"You married your father?"

She laughed at his question, the sound of her laughter unbridled and mocking. "Putting it that way... it does sound fucked up, doesn't it? But no, I didn't marry my dad. My dad's dead. Like I said, it's complicated."

"So tell me."

"What's your name?"

"Garrett." he said.

"Well, Garrett, mine's a long story. It's long and boring, and it's one I don't really enjoy telling people. Especially strangers."

"I'm not a stranger, you know my name."

"But you don't know mine."

Since she was still talking to him, Garrett ventured, "So tell me your name."

She sighed, and all the air seemed to rush out of her.

"I'm Isabella Swan," she said, remembering how much Charlie loved to call her Isabella and not Bella. "And I'm being chased by a vampire."

"A vampire." Garett muttered somberly. "Who? Does he want you for your blood?"

"Like you do?" Bella asked with a smile. The smile was brutal and cruel. It was a smile that distorted her sweet face, and it made Garett cringe. "No," she continued, "He doesn't want me for my blood. He doesn't really want anything from me. But that's scarier, isn't it? Because there's nothing I can do, nothing I can give to make him go away."

Garrett shook with silent anger, and the strength of his anger surprised him. He was beginning to grow attached to the girl, and he didn't like it. He tried to ignore the surge of protectiveness he felt as he thought of anyone wanting to hurt her.

"And his name..." she went on, "I'm sure you know him, or at least heard of him. He's kind of a vegetarian, you see. Very hard to forget."

Garrett stared at her. "That unmated boy in Carlisle's coven. Edward, was it?"

"Edward?" she asked, choking on her air as she said the name. Memories of her short-lived romance with Edward flashed through her mind's eye. "No, the vampire hunting me is the one who made Edward."

Garrett was unable to hide his shock. "You mean Carlisle?"

She groaned in annoyance upon seeing the doubt on his face. "Look, I don't care if you don't believe me. Your faith doesn't have much worth to me. But you're the one who asked for my story."

Garrett frowned, "I didn't mean to offend you. I know Carlisle and... it's just hard to believe."

Bella chuckled. "That's an understatement. Imagine my shock when I found out that he had that side to him. But it's true, Carlisle is the vampire I'm running away from, the one who will kill you without hesitation."

"He's the husband you talked about?"

She nodded. "He's a lot of things. I saw him once as a father figure. But now he's my captor. And my god."

Garrett blinked. "God?"

She exhaled, her expression solemn. "Yes. That's how I know that he'll always find me. He will search every alley and corner of the world if that's what it takes. Eventually, he'll catch me again, except by then I won't be able to escape anymore. I don't even know why I'm wasting my effort trying to break free of him."

"Why does he do it?" he asked. He didn't like the look of hopelessness that crossed her face. "Why does he keep looking for you? I thought he has a mate."

"What binds Carlisle and I together isn't a bond between mates." She frowned. "I don't think you understand, Garrett. It's not about being mates at all. That kind of thing doesn't matter. Carlisle won't stop until he has me in his hands again, because you know what they say about gods?"

The vampire shook his handsome head.

She stood and looked at the map in her hands, already deciding on her next destination. There was a bus stop a few miles from where they stood, and from there, she planned on going further north. She turned to face Garrett, feeling strangely touched by the concern on his face. "Gods fall in love with their creations," she said. "And I'm Carlisle's."

"You're afraid of him." The vampire hissed, surprising her.

"Of course not," she answered. "But also, yes, I fear him with all my heart and soul."

Garrett took her gloved hands in his cold ones, a determined look on his face. "I will keep you from him. I won't let him hurt you."

She thought Garrett was stupid. He had to be, for him to put himself in the line for her. But his words were worthless promises. They sounded almost exactly like the words Edward once told her. Edward promised to keep her safe. He promised that Carlisle will never hurt her again. But in the end, nothing Edward did was able to keep her from Carlisle.

She had long since run out of tears for Edward, having grieved his death for years. All Edward did was love her, and Carlisle had destroyed him in cold blood.

She stared at the hands that held hers. Garrett's hands felt so familiar, and were the same pristine white as Edward's.

_"It will happen again, Bella," _She remembered Carlisle say._ "Edward won't be the last."_

Her face stiff from the cold, she pulled her hands away from Garrett's and laughed.


	3. Lessons

**TWO YEARS AGO**

"It will happen again, Bella." Carlisle whispered sweetly in her ear as he carefully made an incision on her exposed thigh with a scalpel. The doctor smiled as the cut healed. He tenderly placed his lips on the new and scarless skin, ignoring the sticky, sweet blood that smeared his lips as he did so. "Another vampire will love you, and another, and another. You're the most desirable thing there is to my kind."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she remained silent. The cut wasn't the worst she'd experienced, and she had gotten tired of screaming long ago when the doctor repeatedly tortured and raped her in his underground "facility."

"Don't cry, Bella," Carlisle pleaded. He caught a tear with his gored scalpel blade and proceeded to cut the spot where it fell. Again, he watched with rapt attention as the cut healed and he kissed the new skin. "Don't feel sad. Edward won't be the last one to love you. Many more will pledge their lives to you. Many more vampires will give you everything they have. Many more will treat you like the goddess that you are."

She sobbed as he tore her underwear and rubbed her sex.

Edward's eyes were wide and focused on her, his head severed from his body. Both pieces of him were in a puddle of the flammable liquid. He was saying something, but no voice came with the words. Bella looked away, her shame overpowering everything else she felt.

"And the whole time," the doctor continued, "I will just be here, waiting. Waiting and watching as they place you on a pedestal, ready to dirty you and drag you down from it."

He entered her and she cried out in shock as he broke her virginity. He slid in like butter, because, to her own intense mortification, she was gushingly wet. Bella burst into hysterical sobs at her lack of control over her responses to him. She was terrified of Carlisle and what he was planning to do to her—she always was—yet her body had been busy preparing her to be raped.

"I love you, Bella," he murmured in her ear. He began to thrust slowly into her, the care he placed in his movements belying the monster he truly was. "I love you, and every time you think someone else loves you more than I do, I'll drag you back and prove you wrong. Because nobody loves you more than I do. My love is always greater, stronger, harder. I always love you more."

When he was done, Carlisle pulled out from her and she felt her virginity renew itself, the way it always did when he raped her. And before she could say anything, he broke the bones of her arms and legs.

"No, please don't," she begged as the doctor pulled out a match from his pocket and lit it. She tried to ignore the agonizing pain from the broken bones , the pain that threatened to drive her mad, and attempted to move towards Edward's dismembered body to shield it with her own. But as it was, her limbs were immobile. "Carlisle, please don't kill him, please! Please, Carlisle!"

"I don't think you understand, Bella," reasoned the doctor, his face serene and patient. "I made you. You're mine."

As she screamed and begged for Carlisle to spare Edward's life, the doctor just smiled and threw the match, setting Edward's body in flames.

* * *

**NOW**

****He started when he heard her scream. It was agonized and full of so much raw pain, the strength of which he had a hard time even just picturing. He imagined it must be like the pain he felt when the Thirst first burned his throat, or like the pain he felt when he had his first kill. But as the sound of her keening went on and on, he began to doubt that was the case. Her pain was more, so much more than his. The thought made his breath catch in his throat and his mouth pool with venom.

"What's her problem?" asked the old bus driver. There were no other passengers in the bus.

"Nightmare." he mumbled. He was unaccustomed to communicating with humans. He only ever got close enough to the blood bags to feed on them.

The bus wobbled and shook, and Isabella's eyelids flew open as she woke up gasping.

"You were dreaming." he supplied. Her hysterical eyes scanned the bus, as if she wasn't quite in the real world yet.

"I was sleeping," she panted. "God. I was sleeping."

"Yes, I think you need to be asleep to dream."

"I haven't slept in two years." she breathed. "Not since..."

"Last stop!" the bus driver called out.


	4. Shift

**NOW**

Garrett never understood why the girl, Isabella Swan, was so scared of Carlisle. Yes, she told him that Carlisle was chasing her, but what could the vegetarian have done to her that was so horrible? Carlisle was a pacifist, and surely nothing he did to her—or planned to do to her—deserved the quaking that she did in her boots. The girl practically vibrated with fear, and Garrett was unable to reconcile her vehement terror with the smiling image of Carlisle Cullen's face in his mind.

"Is there something on my face?" She asked. He must have been staring at her for a while, something he's never done before.

He turned his attention to the road ahead, or the lack thereof. Isabella Swan seemed sure-footed, but he began to wonder if she truly knew where she was heading. It had been an hour since they got off the bus in the middle of nowhere. And the girl seemed intent on heading deeper into "nowhere." The forest only got denser as they progressed.

He glanced at her. "I was just wondering. Why didn't you just take a car? Why ride the bus?"

"Because," She sniffed and made a motion to pull her coat closer to her body. "I'm not _that_ desperate."

He blinked. "It's easier to travel in a car. Faster."

"True," she ground out impatiently. "But I told you, I'm _not_ that desperate."

He didn't understand Isabella Swan. The girl seemed to have her priorities all messed up. If she was trying to evade a vampire—a very capable vampire at that—shouldn't she use every resource available? Her refusal to steal cars puzzled him. Her chivalry was as unnecessary as it was stupid, and everything she said only served to confuse him more and more.

Eventually they found a house in the woods. It was small and dilapidated, and probably couldn't hold in any heat at all, but it was shelter for the girl.

"This is your _plan_?" asked Garrett as he eyed the broken windows and the holes on the wall. "To live in a rotting piece of wood?"

The place wasn't safe. Surely Isabella Swan knew that. Was it that important for her to evade Carlisle that she would take shelter in such a dangerous place? But then again, the girl wasn't exactly human, so maybe his wariness was lost on her.

"Do you have a house?" she asked sharply.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. The mere thought of settling down was appalling to him. "No. Of course not."

"And does the cold bug you?"

He stared at her. Her question seemed rhetorical. Garrett didn't like answering rhetorical questions. They were obvious jabs at his intellect. But he didn't know Isabella Swan enough to be rude to her, so he replied carefully, "No, the cold doesn't bother me at all."

"Then I don't see why you're complaining." she muttered. "Don't knock the house, Garrett. It's the best I could find right now." she dropped her bag and it fell heavy like a sack of potatoes on the wooden floor. Garrett silently wondered how she was able to carry so much. He thought the old planks would break under the weight. He could smell the rot setting in on the wood that made up the humble abode, and it seemed to have been that way for quite some time.

She sat on a wooden chair and stretched her arms and legs, while he watched her with a strong interest that he tried to mask with stoicism. He already said it: she intrigued him.

"Now, I suppose you want to know more about what I am." she whispered.

"Do you age?" he asked quickly. Of all the millions of questions he wanted to bombard her with, he didn't expect that one to wiggle away from his tongue. He didn't want to seem rude. But his life as a nomadic vampire seemed to have chinked away on his manners.

She just laughed. It wasn't the mocking laugh he once saw her do, but it was still somehow lackluster. Not that he had seen her laugh that many times to have anything to compare it with, but her laugh seemed... somewhat bitter.

"I don't know," she said, "I haven't really noticed. It's only been a few years since I..." she looked away and cleared her throat. "Anyway, I don't think anyone would age that fast."

"Can you die?"

"_Can_ I die?" she gripped her knees tightly. "You make it sound like death is an ability."

Isabella Swan stared at Garrett, and the vampire stared back at her, confused. She had been ignoring him for the better part of the day, and that he suddenly held her undivided attention unsettled him.

"No," She continued, her inscrutable gaze piercing him with its intensity. "I _can't_ die, Garrett."

He heard what she refused to say with her revelation. Because of all the mocking and verbose insults that had fallen from her lips, that short statement of hers said more about her than anything else possibly could.

It told him that she had been tortured, and as scarless as her body was, her mind was probably riddled with scars. It told him that the one who ruined her was Carlisle Cullen, the vampire who was hunting her. It told him that Carlisle was the reason for her nightmare, the reason she hadn't slept in years. It told him that she wasn't afraid of pain, because she had already experienced the worst. It told him that she was tired of life, and that though she had lost her will to live, her body made death impossible.

Because Garrett wasn't stupid. Unsaid words were the language of vampires, and Garrett hadn't gotten to be centuries old by being stupid. Basically, Isabella Swan had all but yelled at his face that she wanted to die.

Something happened inside him then. Something changed. He no longer wanted to hide her from Carlisle. As rage boiled in his chest, he decided he wasn't going to hide. He wasn't going to evade the wretched fiend. He decided to avenge Isabella Swan.

He decided to kill Carlisle Cullen.

* * *

**NOW**

Alice Cullen was screaming. One minute she was wiping Esmé's urn, and the next, she was screaming bloody murder in a voice that probably would have carried for miles. She had seen something terrible in her visions, surely, but Rosalie Hale couldn't bring herself to care. All the blonde vampire wanted to do was get off her mate, get dressed, run downstairs and slap the lights out of the damn psychic.

"_What_ is it?" Rosalie hissed as she slinked down the stairs with a grace only vampires had. Her dress flowed behind her, leaving swirls of wind in its wake. She was annoyed, but more than that, she was terrified, and that annoyed her even more. The last time Alice had an episode like this one, the screaming went on for hours. And when the seer was finally coherent enough to have a decent conversation with, they found out that Esmé had died. Now both Carlisle and Edward were missing, and Bella was also probably dead. None of them understood what had really transpired, however, and probably none of them ever will, seeing how Jasper refused to let them search individually until either Carlisle or Edward returned.

"What's wrong?" Jasper placed a hand on Alice's shoulder and looked at her with concern. He didn't like the state that the coven was in. In fact, he didn't just not like it, he hated it. After Esmé's death, Carlisle disappeared, and along with him, Edward. Alice became unable to see them in her visions, and the rest of them had been dancing around the possibility that both Carlisle and Edward had died. People didn't just disappear from Alice's visions.

"It's Carlisle," Alice murmured.

"He's alive?" asked Jasper.

"I don't understand," Alice continued, "He was somewhere with Bella... and this other vampire..."

"Who's the vampire?" asked Rosalie, her previous irritation gone the second Carlisle was mentioned.

"He's not anyone I recognize." Alice replied. "... But that vampire, he was about to fight Carlisle! And Bella..."

"What's wrong with Bella?" Emmett demanded.

"Emmett, Bella was just watching." Alice's face was a mask of horror. "Oh God, it's like she didn't care that someone wanted to kill Carlisle!"

They all fell silent, and their gazes fell on the urn in Alice's hands.

And then Jasper's voice broke the silence. His question was just a whisper, but for all the subtlety of his words, he could have just screamed them at his mate.

"What about Edward?"

* * *

**NOW**

"You need to hunt."

As aware as Garrett was that Isabella Swan knew of his kind, the extent of her knowledge about vampires still shocked him. She must have known a lot about them if she could tell that they needed to feed just from looking at them.

He gaped at her, or at least gaped as much as a vampire could gape, and opened his mouth to speak. Isabella Swan lifted a finger to silence him.

"If you really want to know," she said, "Then come back when you've fed."

"You can feed me." he pointed out.

"I can." she nodded. She still held the door open for him though, as if she were sending him away. That made him want to leave less.

"You'll be gone when I come back from the hunt." he surmised.

"I might be." she agreed. "But you still need to hunt."

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you've failed to make your point."

"There isn't always any." she swung the door open at a wider angle. "Now, hunt, you stupid vampire."

"I can just feed on you, you know." he growled. "I can force you."

She stared at him. "You can, but you won't."

"Why not?" he asked.

She smiled. Then, a strange question began nagging at the back of his mind.

"Did..." he muttered, "Did _he_ feed... from you?"

Her answer was quick and instant. "No."

That confused him. "Not even just to taste?"

"Not even just to taste."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, _why_?" she shivered and closed the door behind her, then turned to gaze at him. Her gaze was empty and soulless, and it bothered him to no end. "Because it's not my purpose. It's not what he made me for."

"Then what did he make you for?" he all but roared at her.

She shrugged, impassive. "Nothing, I guess. It was just serendipity."

They shared a long moment of silence and meaningful stares.

"Well," she mumbled, "You did ask."

Without another word, Garrett swung the door open and left the shelter to hunt. There were two things he was sure of. First, a random, innocent female brunette was going to have her blood drained by him soon, and second, he was madly obsessed with Isabella Swan.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I think I have to tell you guys a few words of warning: I HATE ALICE. I mean, if she existed in real life, I would have adored her. But as it was, she ruined the Twilight saga for me. What would have been awesome plots were turned into non-plots by her I-see-the-future crap.**


	5. Stalk

**THREE YEARS AGO**

She wasn't in the hospital when she woke up, that much she realized before she even opened her eyes. The air reeked of fresh paint, and the soft tap-tapping of someone's shoes on the floor told her that the floor was made of linoleum, not of the tiles she remembered seeing in the hospital.

She creaked one tired eye open and looked for the source of the rhythmic sounds of footfall, and what she saw surprised her.

The golden-haired vampire at the corner of the room seemed to be cleaning surgical tools. On the tray was an array of bloodied scalpel holders, forceps and needles. She silently wondered whose blood it was that gored the doctor's instruments. It sure smelled like hers.

"Carlisle?" she croaked, her voice scratchy from lack of use and dehydration.

At the sound of her voice, Carlisle dropped the tools and turned his head in an owl-like motion, the action unnaturally quick and precise. She noticed the way his eyes sparkled with a degree of delight that almost seemed manic. She had never quite seen that look on him, or on any vampire for that matter, and immediately, for a reason she could not exactly understand herself, she found herself afraid of the kind and gentle Carlisle.

"Bella!" Carlisle exclaimed, his voice acquiring a strange tenor quality. He approached her and smiled. "You're awake! How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"

He poured water into the glass on the bedside table. She grabbed the glass and drained it. With a sigh, she pushed herself up off the bed to sit, and struggled to focus on keeping herself upright. Tubes and needles forced fluids into her veins, and tiny cups were placed all around her chest, hooking her to a machine that beeped with every sturdy beat of her heart.

"I... I'm fine." The truth in her words confused her. Wasn't it her blood on Carlisle's tools? But she had no wounds or scars. "Where are we? Where's Edward?"

Carlisle smiled gently, his lovely lips upturned in a familiar grin. "You're in a facility." he said, placing his cold hand on hers in a comforting gesture. "I sent Edward home. Don't worry, you're just on quarantine at the moment."

"Quarantine?" she asked. "Am I sick or something?"

"Oh, not at all," said the doctor. "But I need to monitor your progress, and it has to be without anyone else's interference."

She made a move to stand. "What progress, Carlisle? I'm fine. Can't I just go home?"

"I'm afraid I can't let you go home yet, Bella," the doctor frowned. He gently pushed her back on the bed. "There's much to... to test, much to discover about you. You're quite the unique case, you see, and I intend to exhaust all the information I could from you."

She immediately became aware of the place she's in. The walls were painted black, and the one door she saw was made of metal and seemed to be locked electronically. There were no windows, she noticed with a sharp intake of breath. No way to see the sky, no means of knowing where she was or if she was underground. Where was her air coming from? She was in no way claustrophobic, but she slowly found it harder to breathe in the room.

Carlisle glanced at the monitor beside the bed and frowned. "You're panicking, Bella. Your heart rate's spiking. You need to calm down. I just have to know a few things from you, and then I could..." he hesitated, "I could _probably_ let you go."

"You're questioning me." she whispered. "What about?"

Carlisle smiled. "Nothing much. Just your feelings, or if anything hurts, or if—"

"Okay, I get it. You want to do check-ups on me."

Carlisle smiled. "Yes, of course. I'm glad you finally understand."

"But why quarantine me, Carlisle?"

"I'm only concerned for your safety, Bella. If someone were to find out—"

"Find out about what?"

"About you," reasoned the doctor. "About how special you are. If they find out about you, I don't know what might happen. I can't let you leave."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, barely noticing that her voice rose an octave as hysteria began to touch her words. Something about what Carlisle said scared her, and the darkness of the room was fast on its way to making her panic. "Why can't I go home? I'm not sick, I'm not hurt, and I don't have any contagious diseases, so why am I on quarantine?"

Carlisle smiled at her lovingly, and touched her warm cheeks with his ice-cold fingers.

"You can't go home, Bella, because you're not human."

* * *

**NOW**

He was doing the right thing. As he paced around the abandoned cabin and inhaled the faint remnants of Bella's scent, pressing the old linens to his nose to get more of her distinct smell, he had no doubt that he was only doing the right thing. He had never been selfish in his many centuries as a vampire. He always gave, offered, sacrificed. He never harmed a single human, refused to even drink from one. He resisted the temptation of human blood in his years as a doctor. He _always_ helped others, _always_ sacrificed for others.

So he had the right to be selfish just this once, did he not?

The door to the small cabin swung open, and a young teenage-looking girl peeked in, her long brown hair tumbling down her shoulders as she warily spoke.

"Daddy?"

At the sound of his daughter's voice, he immediately growled. "Close the door and stay outside!"

She obeyed and swiftly shut the door, but the damage was done. A little of Bella's scent escaped through the door, and the scent was already so faint to begin with.

He never liked winter. Scent trails grew cold quick, and he had to wear unnecessary extra layers of clothes to blend in. The thick winter clothes hindered his movement, and the high collars of the coats bothered his nose. Winter made hunting harder. He supposed his precious creation had that in mind when she moved north, and instead of being annoyed, he glowed with pride. She was so smart, and he created her.

He was going to find her, eventually. He was nothing if not patient. He had forever to find her, and she was immortal too, in her own special way.

He exited the cabin and inhaled the cold and crisp winter air. Her scent was gone. He smiled.

So smart.

"Daddy, where are we going next?" his daughter asked.

"Further north, kiddo," he patted his daughter's hair and chuckled. "I'm sure your mother went further north."

* * *

**A/N: Are you shocked? Because I sure shocked myself when this idea popped up in my head. My head thinks strange things, people, as I'm sure you already know. I can only hope you enjoyed my brain's weird concoctions.**

**And I am so glad to know that I'm not alone in my hate for Alice! But I respect characters (except Edward) and I have huge deliberations in my head before deciding to kill them off, so I'm keeping the seer alive. For now.**

**So, know that my killing Esmé was absolutely necessary, my friends. Carlisle's mate has no place in this tale. But I love Esmé!**

**And I know that the chapter's a little short, but the next one will be much longer, I promise! :)**


	6. Blood and Venom

**NOW**

He found her. His new prey. After running for miles and miles, he finally found her. She was carrying groceries across the parking lot of a store. The girl didn't smell nearly as good as Isabella Swan, but she was going to have to do. His prey had long brown hair; though not as richly brown as he'd wanted, and big brown eyes; though quite a dull shade of brown compared to the brown of Isabella Swan's eyes.

Garett couldn't fathom why he was so thirsty. It usually took a newly-fed vampire a couple of weeks to get thirsty again, and here he was, merely a few hours past his last feed, and his throat burned like it had been scratched with sandpaper for centuries. Something was wrong with him. His eyes were as black as the darkest winter night. He felt something strange inside him, something that ate away at his sanity.

He had never been so thirsty.

He easily approached his prey and smiled at her, effortlessly dazzling her with his beauty. She was carrying quite a lot of paper bags, and so he ventured, "Do you need some help?"

His prey looked up at him and blushed, the pink color on her cheeks only making his Thirst more aggravating. "Um, yes, if you don't mind."

He easily took four of the bags from her arms and followed her to her car. He looked around and saw people shuffling through the parking lot, some loading their cars and some playing with their skateboards in the spacious plot of heated asphalt. Everything else was covered in snow, but the parking lot had its own heating system that kept it clear of the icy nuisance. After Garrett loaded the bags into the trunk, his prey shyly smiled at him and thanked him.

He scratched his head in mock embarrassment. "Well, I need a ride to my cousin's place." he lied. "You see I was running around and exploring the town, and I just got lost. If you want to thank me..."

"You need a ride to your cousin's?" asked the girl with a bright smile. She pulled out her keys and opened the door to the driver's seat. "You got it."

"Thanks," said Garrett as he entered the car after she did. "I have the address."

Garrett smiled as he noticed that the car had tinted windows, and realized that he was no longer able to wait. He had to feed. Now. He reached out to her, and immediately crushed her windpipe with his tight grip so she couldn't scream; not that anyone would have heard her if she did. His teeth sank into her skin and flesh like a hot knife through butter, and he drank her dry. He emptied her until not even his venom remained in her veins. Nauseous and disgusted by her taste, he pushed her limp body away after he fed from her, and vomited her blood all over the dashboard.

Garrett stared at the bloody mess in surprise, unsure of what to make of it.

The putrid stench around him wracked his nose, and he exited the car in a hurry. Nothing seemed to make sense. He just fed, and yet he couldn't keep the blood down. He was really, really thirsty, and he wanted Isabella Swan's blood.

* * *

**THREE YEARS AGO**

Blood. It was everywhere—on the walls, on the linoleum floor, on the sheets and on Dr. Carlisle Cullen's gloved hands. The whole room was sticky with blood, the very air saturated with its sickeningly sweet stench.

The doctor held his gloved hands in front of his sensitive nose and inhaled the decadent scent of Isabella Swan's blood on the thin layer of latex. It wasn't that he thirsted for her blood; he had grown accustomed to the smell of the life-giving crimson liquid in his years as a surgeon. No, Dr. Carlisle Cullen didn't like the smell of Isabella Swan's blood because of a reason as shallow as Thirst. He liked it, loved it even, because it remained the same even as the girl's body had changed. He remembered her scent before her change, and it was still her scent now that she was obviously more than human. Nothing seemed abnormal about her blood, or about anything else in her body, except for her regenerative abilities. That he had made her into something so medically monumental, and that she seemed to exhibit no side effects at all, filled him with so much pride.

So many breakthroughs, so many discoveries, all because of serendipity.

There were many things that can excite a vampire. Vampires were mercurial creatures. A joke could elicit an irrational fury from one. A play-kiss could bring forth intense lust in another. And of course, blood. Blood was universal, the one part of the human anatomy guaranteed to excite vampires. But the vampire Carlisle Cullen, with all his intelligent explorations of the human anatomy, ignored the gore that surrounded him. It didn't matter how delicious the blood smelled, or how thirsty he was—blood no longer gave him the excitement it gave the rest of vampirekind. As far as he was concerned, only one thing excited him anymore.

Isabella Swan.

"It hurts..." A soft whisper grabbed the doctor's attention. He turned towards the direction of the voice and at the unrecognizable girl that was spread-eagled on the bed. Her wrists and ankles were tied to the bedposts. Her skin was mostly peeled from muscle though still attached to her body at some places. Sheets of skin and some fat hung uselessly from her elbows, her knees, her spine, and the back of her ears. She was a slab of blood and muscle with flaps of skin hanging uselessly on the side. Even her face was skinned.

"Just a little more, Bella," Carlisle said encouragingly. "You're doing great."

The doctor watched unblinkingly as the girl's skin pulled itself back towards her body and slowly grew back where it was lost. She was healing yet again right before his eyes. A little slowly compared to the way she healed from cuts and bruises, but she was healing all the same. Excited and unable to contain his glee, the doctor's sharp mind ran through all the possibilities. The girl would be indestructible, and in some ways even better than vampires, for she didn't need to kill humans to survive.

He'd expected to create a simple cure-all, and he'd created the elixir of human immortality.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen remained silent, glanced at his watch and waited.

"Kill... me..." the girl eventually said. Her skin was completely healed by then, and the doctor pulled out a clipboard and wrote: SKIN REMOVAL - 00:23:15. On the clipboard was a list of numbers, each set of numbers corresponding to the time it took for the girl to completely heal from injury. Dr. Carlisle Cullen never wasted a single second in finding out more about his creation. Within five days, he'd figured out how long it took the girl to heal from full-body burns, eviscerations, knife stabs, extracted organs and broken bones. He broke her neck once and thought she had really died, only to have her come back to life a day and a half later. Truly, he had much to learn about his creation. So much to know about this new species he'd made.

She just lay there groaning in pain, skin smeared with blood but nonetheless unharmed and scarless. The doctor set aside his clipboard and smiled.

"You know I can't do that, Bella." he said compassionately. He approached her and placed his hand on her hair. The girl didn't have the energy to cringe from the contact. She was tired. Healing always drained her to the bone, and he hurt her so many times, in so many different ways, that it took all her willpower just to get her lips to move.

"I want... to go home. I promise I won't tell anyone about this, not even Edward. Please, just let me go home."

The doctor nodded. "I will, in time. However, I'm not done yet. I still have to know how fast you heal from different things. I don't know if you're immune to viruses or not. I don't know if poisons work on you. I still don't know a lot of things. You have to understand, Bella, you're this whole new species. I can't just let you out into the world without knowing all the things you can do."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "But all I can do is heal. I won't hurt anyone with that."

Carlisle nodded again. "Yes. But do you know how many people are having difficult lives because they're human? Because they aren't like you? Do you know how hard life is for those who are sick, for those who can't heal the way you do? I want to help the world, Bella. I want to make everyone like you. Healthy. But first, I need to know the workings of the serum on your body. I need to know everything. Help me with my research, Bella, and you can help thousands. Maybe even millions."

"But it hurts so much every time." she whimpered. "Isn't there a way to make it not hurt? Like, anesthesia? Can't you use that?"

He smiled indulgently. "I can."

With that, grabbed a syringe filled with a metallic liquid.

"... What is that?" she asked warily. He sat beside her on the bloodied bed and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Something to help with the pain." replied the doctor.

She closed her eyes as he pushed the needle into her wrist and injected the fluid into her bloodstream. The veins in her arm began to burn and throb with an unspeakable kind of pain. She looked questioningly at the doctor, who still sat beside her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"It'll pass." he said.

But it didn't. Every second, the pain just grew and grew. It spread to her chest until it got harder to breathe, and to her abdomen. Her insides started cramping into themselves, further and further in, until it all became unbearable.

She screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Bile rose in her throat and she vomited. As she curled up on the bed and slowly faded from consciousness, she saw the doctor's knowing smile. And then she knew. She knew that Dr. Carlisle Cullen lied to her. He injected her with poison.

He said he can make the pain go away. That wasn't a lie. However, he forgot to mention that he had no intention of doing it.

* * *

**NOW**

Garrett ran. Away from what, the vampire wasn't really sure. Something terrified him, and that he didn't know what it was scared him even more. One thing he knew though, was that he was running towards Isabella Swan.

The dilapidated cabin was in sight, and he ran faster. Isabella Swan was looking out the window and right at him, her eyes confused and knowing at the same time. Puzzled by his bedraggled state, Isabella Swan rushed out of the shelter and met him out in the snow, her footfalls muted into silence by the white powder that covered the ground. The girl took one glance at the vampire's irises and knew.

"I told you to hunt."

To Garrett, the girl in front of him smelled absolutely mouthwatering. She still reeked of the offensive odor of perfumes, but behind the artificial stench, her scent still called to him. Somewhere inside the vampire, there was a part that didn't want to feed from her. He didn't understand how or why, but a huge part of him didn't want to hurt her. However, the vampire can't help himself now. He was so thirsty, and she just smelled too good.

"I... I can't..." his mouth pooled with venom. "Tried... Threw up blood..."

Isabella Swan's eyes widened. Then she remembered something and sighed in resignation. She should have known that after having tasted her blood, Garrett wouldn't be able to feed from anyone else. After all, it wasn't the first time it happened. She grimaced as Edward's words raced through her mind:

_"I can't feed, Bella... I don't... I tried to, but it all just came back up. Something's wrong with me. I need to..." Edward looked at the small pulsation on her neck. "Oh God. I can't!" he grabbed her shoulders, and without further ado, he sank his teeth in her neck._

"You need my blood." Isabella Swan surmised. She understood the craving Garrett felt, having seen it in another vampire. "You can't drink from anyone else, Garrett. It has to be me."

His voice was heavy with agony. "I don't understand... I was fine before..." he inhaled her scent and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He growled, the sound hesitant and yet predatory.

"It's my blood, I think." she explained somberly, not minding the fact that the vampire was licking her neck. "I'm kind of like vampire heroin."

He silently agreed with her analogy. With the way he craved her, she indeed was vampire heroin.

She chuckled sardonically. "You know, Garrett, someone called me his own brand of heroin once. He didn't know how right he was."

"Carlisle?" he asked, his thirst momentarily forgotten.

"My boyfriend." she replied tersely. "Edward. He was the first vampire who... well, I was already his singer when I was human. It got worse when I... changed."

He noticed the sad fondness in her voice. "And you love him."

She smirked. "Duh."

Angrily, he bit down her neck, right at the spot where he'd once bitten her.

Rich, sweet blood flowed into Garrett's mouth and he greedily swallowed it in big, greedy gulps. He groaned and continued to suck her veins dry. With the way she tasted, he could have latched himself to her forever and never have gotten satisfied. Her warm blood soothed the burning in his throat and he moaned in pleasure and relief.

"Garrett." a voice interrupted him. A beautiful voice, but he could listen later. At the moment, he was too thirsty to listen to anyone.

"Garrett, slow down. I'm not going away." the voice sounded strained. His thirst began to fade a little, and he realized that the voice was Isabella Swan's. His eyes snapped open and he quickly pulled away from her. He wiped the blood on his mouth and chin with his coat sleeve and felt himself being trapped between wanting to lick the blood off his coat and wanting to burn his coat. He looked away, his crimson eyes brimming with a strange kind of shame that was unfamiliar to him.

"I didn't know what I was—" his eyes landed on the deep bite wound on her neck and he held his breath. "You're hurt. I hurt you again." he looked horrified. "I didn't mean to."

"Wasn't the first time," She shrugged. The corners of her lips lifted to a smile, and it looked twisted and deformed on her pale, bloodless face. "And besides, I've had worse. Your bite was almost a tickle."

Her statement did little to comfort him.

"How did you become what you are?" asked the vampire. She said she'd answer more of his questions after he fed, and he wasn't about to let her forget her promise.

She snickered. "Can't we at least get in the house first before you start asking questions? I don't really like the cold much."

He followed her into the cabin, closing the door behind him as he entered.

"If you don't like the cold, why did you choose to go this far up north?"

Bella cringed, as if remembering something she didn't want to remember. The wound on her neck slowly closed over, and blood gradually began to color her cheeks.

Her words were hesitant. "Because I trust my daughter."

* * *

**FIVE MONTHS AGO**

Bella made it. She had escaped Carlisle's facility and managed to hitch a ride to Seattle. She didn't know how or why the metal hatch of her room was left wide open; she knew Carlisle was a careful man and couldn't have forgotten to close it. After a few bites into her burger, however, Bella gave up wondering about it. Whatever circumstance it was that left the door open for her escape, she was thankful for it.

"You're too easy to find, Mom."

Bella spun around and came face-to-face with a beautiful teenage-looking girl. The girl had beautiful brown hair flowing down her back, and rich, chocolate brown eyes. Bella thought she looked a little familiar, but then realized how closely the girl resembled her. She and Bella could have been sisters.

"Excuse me?" _Mom? Her?_

"You're too easy to find." the girl repeated. "And you shouldn't let Daddy find you. He will... hurt you."

An image of Carlisle Cullen's face flashed through Bella's mind, but then that made no sense. Carlisle was nobody's Daddy. His only biological child... their daughter, was stillborn. And even if their daughter had lived, she was only going to be a toddler, not a teenager.

"I... I think you've mistaken me for someone else, miss."

The young girl shook her head. "No, I'd recognize you anywhere. But of course it only makes sense that you don't recognize me." She looked at her feet and smiled sheepishly. "I know you won't believe me, but I want to tell you anyway... I'm your daughter."

* * *

**A/N: I know my update took forever. Sorry about that. :**


	7. To Kill a Swan

**THREE YEARS AGO**

"Charlie! Charlie! Dad, open the door! Let me in!"

Chief Charlie Swan tiredly creaked his reluctant eyes open, his mind still groggy from exhaustion and stress. The voice he heard sounded so familiar, but he was so tired. With a groan, he shut his eyes once more. He had been tirelessly searching for his missing daughter for three weeks since she disappeared from the hospital, and those three weeks without proper meals and sleep finally took their toll on him. Tonight, he was going to sleep. Then tomorrow...

Tomorrow, he'll continue to search for Bella.

"Dad, it's Bella! Open the door!"

Bella. His daughter. Why did she want him to open the door?

Charlie Swan was instantly awake. It was like a buzz of electricity suddenly coursed through his body, and he found himself running to the door in an almost clumsy hurry, fumbling blindly about and bumping into tables and chairs in the dark.

"Bella?" he asked worriedly. He yelped when his shin hit the edge of the coffee table in his living room. "Bella, is that you?"

He opened the door and almost fainted at the sight of his daughter. She was dressed in next to nothing, but she didn't seem hurt. Then he noticed the blood. There was so much blood on her skin and tattered clothes. Her hair was crusted with it. It was as if ten people bled on her.

"Oh God, Bella. What the hell happened to you?" asked Charlie. He held her in a tight embrace that only a father who had been worried sick about his daughter would have done.

They stayed that way for a few minutes; silent — each taking comfort in, and relieved by, the presence of the other. It was Bella who had spoken first, her words uttered in a soft whisper her father had to strain to hear.

"I'm cold."

Charlie blinked. He pulled Bella into the safety of home and watched warily as she sat on the couch. He was beside himself with worry and so close to bursting with questions, but he remained silent. There was a fragile air about his daughter. It seemed like the slightest rush of air would blow her away. And so he waited. Waited as he wiped the blood off her arms and legs with a wet towel, waited as she went to the bathroom and washed the filth off her body, waited as he picked her up from the bathroom floor when he found her screaming her heart out, and waited until she was dressed and warm.

"I'm not human, dad." was the first thing Bella said since entering the house.

"What?" It wasn't what Charlie expected to hear. He didn't know exactly what he expected her to say. Maybe he thought she'd tell him that she got raped or kidnapped. Charlie Swan definitely didn't expect his daughter to say that she wasn't human.

"I'm not human." She repeated. "I heal. From everything. I can't die." She grabbed the metal letter opener from the table and stabbed her hand with it.

"Stop! What are you doing?" Her father demanded. He tried to pry the sharp object away from her hands, but she held firm.

Bella frowned. The piece of metal wasn't sharp enough, so she stabbed her hand repeatedly, ignoring Charlie's roaring protestations until the metal went clean through her hand. She didn't even wince.

"You see this?" She raised her hand and showed him the metal that pierced through it.

Charlie grabbed her hand."What the hell is wrong with you?" He pulled the metal out and wrapped her hand with the towel she'd used to dry her hair. "Why would you hurt yourself like that?"

He ran to the kitchen and reached for the telephone to call an ambulance. As soon as he picked up the receiver, however, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Bella had followed him to the kitchen, and was looking at him with an emotionless gaze.

"There's no need for that," she said flatly. She peeled the towel away from her hand and wiped the blood off her palm, before raising it to her father's face. Charlie stared, stunned, at the perfectly uninjured hand in front of him. Bella continued to stare at him, her gaze inscrutable. "Because there's nothing that needs fixing."

"What... How..."

"I heal." She said tersely.

Charlie was speechless. Carefully, Bella settled him on his favorite couch, and waited silently for him to absorb the strange information. If she hadn't healed so many times, Bella wouldn't have believed it herself. But as it was, she had healed scarlessly too many times that she'd already lost count.

"How long was I gone?" she asked her father, handing him a glass of cold water she'd gotten from the kitchen.

Charlie drank it all in two gulps. "Twenty... Twenty-three days."

Bella slowly nodded and pondered the information. Then, out of the blue, she laughed. She laughed like she had never laughed. She laughed so loudly it was almost like she was screaming over and over again. "Three weeks!" She snickered. "Not even a month, and I've already died a thousand deaths!"

"A thousand deaths?" asked Charlie. "What are you talking about?"

She trained her gaze back at him, and he was terrified by the madness he saw in her eyes. Gone was the fragile Bella who entered his house. This was a different Bella, not at all like the sweet daughter of his.

"You saw all that blood on me, Dad?" she asked. "All that blood on my clothes and hair and my whole body?"

Charlie warily nodded. It was the thing he was most curious about. "What about it?"

"It was all mine."

Just then, the door was smashed open, and a certain golden-haired vampire stood by the doorway, a beautiful frown on his winsome face.

"Carlisle Cullen?" asked Charlie.

"Hello, Charlie."

"What are you doing here?"

Bella froze in her seat and stared at Carlisle, an intimate terror seizing control of her arms and legs.

Carlisle walked into the house with a sad, lovely smile — a familiar smile to Bella, for it was always a prelude to pain. "Well," said the vampire nonchalantly, "I guess there's always the first kill."

Her father was the first human that her god had killed. It wasn't a messy affair, and there was hardly any blood spilled at all. Isabella Swan watched motionlessly in absolute terror as Carlisle Cullen snapped her father's neck, and she saw in her god's eyes a familiar feverish glee.

Carlisle threw Charlie's body across the room, and carefully approached his beautiful creation.

"Will you run away again, Bella?" he asked in a soft whisper.

Bella didn't shed tears. She had been used to so much physical pain. So accustomed was she to her body being tortured in the worst possible ways, that she didn't know what to do with this new kind of pain — the pain of Charlie's death. It was different. It didn't heal or close over scarlessly like her wounds. It rotted and festered inside her. Perhaps if the pain she felt inside matched the pain on her body, she would begin to know how to deal with it.

She had to bleed. Her body had to hurt, too, because that kind of pain always disappeared. She reminded herself that all hurts always disappeared. But first, she had to show it again to herself.

She looked up at Carlisle's golden irises and said defiantly, expecting and hoping for a punishment that she was sure she'd heal from, "Always."

* * *

**TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO**

"Damn it!" Jacob Black yelled as soon as he returned to his human form. He slammed his fist against a pine tree and ignored the damage he had caused it as it fell unceremoniously to the ground. "I almost had her! Damn it!"

Snow fell and melted to water upon contact with his burning skin, making steamy trails from his broad shoulders down his naked back. He looked around the frozen forest, ignoring the huge wolves that surrounded him, and dropped to his knees as he reached under a tree for a spare set of clothes. He remembered placing clothes under that specific tree, as he did under many other trees since awakening as a wolf. With the problem of always turning naked every time they phased back to their human selves, spare clothes became a necessity to his kind. Jacob bitterly pondered the first time he phased, and a deep growl rumbled from his chest.

"Jacob. Don't do this. We need you focused right now. She might come back anytime."

Jacob refused to face the man behind him, partly because he didn't want to face Sam Uley's nakedness, and partly because he always got a sense of satisfaction out of ignoring him. Jacob may not have wanted to be the pack leader, but that didn't mean he liked being bossed around. Nobody ordered Jacob Black. Not before he became a wolf, not now that he was a "member" of Sam Uley's pack, not _ever_. Jacob Black didn't care if Sam Uley wanted to stop the chase at the edge of the Quileute territory. He didn't care if Sam Uley was Alpha. Jacob was going to chase that red-haired vampire to the edge of the world if he had to, because he was certain, so absolutely certain, that she had killed the Swans. If Jacob had arrived at Chief Swan's house a few minutes earlier, he might have witnessed the crime himself. Or perhaps, he might have prevented it from happening at all.

The thought made him growl in anger.

Without another word, he wore the clothes and continued to ignore the wolves and the man behind him.

Eventually, Sam gave a resigned sigh. "Jacob—"

"She killed Bella," Jacob said scathingly, still refusing to face him. "That bloodsucker killed Bella and Chief Swan, and you're telling me to 'cease chase' because our tribe's territory ends here! Do you know how ridiculous that is?"

Sam glared at him. "It's not ridiculous, because our territory _does_ end here. Our responsibility ends here."

"Does it?" asked Jacob, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are you sure you 're not just too much of a coward to actually, you now, _hunt_ a vampire? Because you know, I can understand that. Vampires are scary after all. Wouldn't want to ruin your nappy-boo with vampy nightmares."

Sam growled. "I'm not scared of vampires. And if it was really just her, I'd gladly hunt her with you. But we're not ready to face more than just one vampire, and if she has friends out there... I'm not about to send the pack on a suicide mission for your childish delusions of grandeur and romance, Jacob. We care for our people, and our people only. It sounds selfish, but it's true. I know you liked Bella, but she isn't... wasn't one of our tribe."

Jacob spun around and faced him, his face a mask of absolute fury. "Are you seriously being racist right now? Because that is so going to piss me off."

"It's not that. All I'm saying is, unless that vampire is on our land, she isn't our responsibility. Vampires have been around for a long time, Jacob. It's not our job to exterminate them. Our job is to protect our tribe."

"So you're saying you won't go out on a limb to avenge the Swans. Because it's not your _job_." Jacob growled angrily. "And you know what? You shouldn't do what you don't want to do. I'm not forcing you to leave the lands. So for the love of God, respect my decision and don't force me to stay here when Bella's killer is just running around out there."

"People die all the time. Besides, we don't know if that vampire really killed the Swans."

"Well, I do!" He yelled. "The bloodsucker reeked of Charlie's blood, and Bella's blood was all over the house! Why are you being so ignorant, Sam? You know I'm right."

The wolves around them growled in agreement. They didn't particularly like Isabella Swan, but they also didn't like that Sam ceased the hunt when a human-drinking vampire who obviously had something to do with the Swan massacre was just a few miles away from the Quileute territory.

"The Swan house was burned down." the Alpha growled.

"I was there before the leech burned it down!" Jacob yelled.

"Well, whatever it is you want to do to the vampire, you don't have to follow her out there." Sam reasoned, exasperated. "You know she always comes back to _that place_."

Every now and then, the red-haired vampire would return to the Swan house and sniff around for a few minutes, before leaving again in a hurry. The wolves never understood why she did what she did, but were glad she always came back. The pack always did enjoy a good hunt.

However, Jacob Black had different reasons for his obsession with hunting the vampire. He had been in love with Isabella Swan for a long time, and her death plagued him with overwhelming grief. It was strange, actually. He didn't really lose much when she died, because she was never even his to lose.

Jacob ground his teeth together. "I don't want to wait for that bloodsucker to come back! Shouldn't we make it so she never comes back?"

Paul, Jared and Embry howled in agreement.

Sam remained silent.

Jacob scoffed and threw his hands in the air in mock surrender. "You know what? Whatever, Uley. I give up. To hell with you and your little play-hunting. I'm out. Been out for a long time now, and we all know I was just pretending to be your puppy."

"You might die if you go out there alone." Sam warned.

Jacob shrugged. "I'll die of frustration if I stay with you, so I guess that just means I'm destined to die, huh?"

* * *

**NOW**

A house stood just a few miles past the edge of Forks and a good distance from the Quileute territory. It was in that house, within its quaint space and cracked walls, that he stood, his eyebrows formed into the shape of worry that they'd had since he was human from years and years of worrying. He tried to sit to suppress his anxiety, but sitting comfortably for long stretches of time no longer gave him the comfort it used to. Sitting down, standing up, or doing a handstand — they were all the same to him. He could have been doing cartwheels and it would have felt the same as running upright. He had had years to get used to the feeling, or rather the lack of feeling, but it always seemed eerie to him when he thought of it. And he thought of it a lot. He was a vampire, after all. Without the daily worries and woes of humanity, without the need to do the usual routines — bathing, brushing his teeth, going to work — he had nothing to do but think.

Vampire. He was a vampire. He didn't expect he'd end up as a mythological creature that sucked blood.

Not that there was much sucking involved when he fed. A bite on the right spot was all it took and the blood spilled itself for him. All he needed to do was catch the blood with his mouth, drink his fill, and make sure to burn the prey's body after. It was what he was taught by his maker, and his maker had taught him well.

His maker. He was worried about his maker. She had left not more than a few hours ago, but it was already much longer than he was used to. She was taking too long to return, and he already felt the beginnings of apprehension.

She said she would stay as his mentor for ten years until he was ready to set off on his own. Surely she didn't abandon him; they still had seven more years to spend together.

He looked out the window and at the grey sky of Christmas morning. Three years. It had been three years since he last saw his daughter, and as much as he wanted to hold on to the hope of seeing her again, as much as his maker told him never to lose hope, he had already begun to.

He heard the door click shut.

He sniffed the air and sighed. He had been worrying about his mentor since she left his side. "Any news?" he asked out loud, knowing fully well that the vampire in question had just arrived.

The red-haired vampire he had been expecting came up behind him and held him in a tight embrace. "No."

Over the years they'd spent together, his maker had created a habit of hugging him from behind. It was a habit he never understood, but one he liked anyway.

"You took longer than usual." he pointed out. "Did anything happen?"

She sighed into his back and he felt the skin where she breathed tingle with a strange kind of electricity.

"I was chased by animals." She said.

He blinked. "Animals can't chase us."

"_Those_ animals can."

He sniffed. "Those must have been some heavy-duty animals."

She chuckled. "You have no idea."

There was a long stretch of silence between them.

"I thought you left me." He said, breaking the fragile silence. "I thought you abandoned me."

She hugged him tighter. "You know I can't do that."

"And after seven years, when you _can_ leave... Will you?"

She immediately let go of him and was suddenly in front of him, her cold hands caressing the eternal stubble on his chin. "We're not mates, Charlie."

He looked away abruptly, as if she had slapped him. Of course, she never loved him that way. He was more of a child to her than a man. It didn't matter that he looked old enough to be her father. She had a mate, and she was going to mourn his death forever, no matter how long forever was going to be.

Because vampires remembered everything, and the vampire Victoria never forgot.

* * *

**A/N: I know there's no Garrett or Carlisle in this chapter, but a lot of you wanted more back story. So here's some of that back story. Actually, just telling everything in order would make the whole story a huge CLUSTERDUCK, so I really hope nobody's getting mad at me for jumping from one timeline to the next.**

**PS: REVIEWS ARE LOOOOVE!**


	8. What They Knew

**NOW**

Garrett knew a few things.

He liked to stare at Isabella Swan a lot. He liked it when she smiled, even if her smiles we only either sad or cruel. He liked the faraway look she got in her eyes when she remembered some things, although he never even knew what she had been thinking about. He really liked her laughs, even if her laughs were only ever mocking. He liked the way she said his name — his vampire ears appreciated the way her human tongue rolled the two syllables. He liked the way she smelled; he always inhaled deeply around her, even if he had no need to breathe. He _definitely_ liked the way her blood tasted.

Garrett wasn't an innocent. He had killed many in his long life as a vampire, and many of those deaths were well-deserved. He had killed few innocents in his hunts, and though he felt some degree of shame over that fact, he knew better than to mull over human deaths — for if he were to mourn all the deaths in the world, he was going to spend his eternity in misery. Garrett knew he was a murderer, and though he was not proud to be one, he didn't deny it either. He wasn't hypocrite. A vampire was just what he was. Mistakes were bound to happen, and being an immortal, he preferred living in the moment over wallowing about the past.

Guilt was not a foreign emotion to him, of course. He had been human once, after all. But over the centuries, he had learned to let guilt slide over him like oil slid over water. He had learned to ignore his guilt before it festered inside him like the rot in the cabin's wood. That's not to say that his conscience was clear, but he just learned to ignore his conscience.

Isabella Swan knew things, too.

Bella knew things about vampires the way people just knew things in their dreams. If one was being chased by a giant bottle in his dream, he wouldn't question how or why a giant bottle was chasing him in the first place. He'd only know that he should run for his life.

Perhaps it was just instinct: a result of the fear that Carlisle had so deeply implanted into her psyche. Maybe her traumatic experiences had fine-tuned her senses to vampires. Or maybe it was an ability. Whatever it was, Bella had always been thankful for her uncanny way of knowing things.

Except now.

Garrett was beginning to grow attached to her. Bella didn't question how or why the vampire could have been so, but she just knew that he was.

"Garrett, I need to tell you something."

The vampire stared at her intently, his gaze focused and attentive as he nodded for her to continue. His irises were still blood-red, she noticed, though there were little flecks green — his eyes looked like blood and bile. Strange. She looked around the cabin to see which green object had been reflected in the vampire's eyes, but she only saw the brown of wood and the dirty white of the old linens on the bed across the small cabin. She stared back into his eyes, they were just plain red again.

The strange color was gone.

"What is it?" asked the vampire.

She stared at him dumbly. "What?"

"You were going to tell me something." He said impatiently. "What is it?"

"Oh." She sighed. "I'm going to tell you my story, Garrett."

He nodded somberly.

"But you have to promise me something." she said. "Promise me you'll leave after I tell you my story. The effects of my blood would disappear after a few days. You'll have some stomach cramps, but you'll be fine after. You can leave. You should leave. You have to promise."

The vampire blinked in surprise. And when he spoke, his calm voice betrayed none of the rage he truly felt. "Why?"

"Carlisle is my god." she reasoned, as if it was supposed to mean something.

Garrett frowned, but remained silent.

"He's my father and husband," she continued. "And I fear him to kingdom come. But I don't hate him. You wouldn't understand."

No, he won't.

The girl was crazy. Garrett didn't know what to do with his hands. He wanted to strangle her. He wanted to pull off the planks off the floor, because they smelled so damn rotten and their stench offended his nose. He wanted to grab Isabella Swan's shoulders and...

And...

He ground his teeth together. She wanted him to leave, so she could have a peaceful reunion with Carlisle?

Isabella Swan had a daughter. Was she Carlisle's?

"Your daughter," he began, "Who sired her?"

She shook her head. "I'll tell you everything. But you have to promise first. Promise that after this, you won't follow me. Because I'll know if you do. And I know how to disappear."

Garrett scowled.

"I promise." he said through clenched teeth. With a smile he only kept to himself, he decided that promises were stupid and useless anyway. He can always track her, if she could even manage to outrun him.

She exhaled, and it was as if all the air went out of her.

"It started when I fell in love with a vampire three years ago."

Garrett held his breath in anger. "_Edward_," he hissed, remembering the damned name of the girl's vampire lover.

Isabella Swan smiled at him the way only a dead girl with a dead heart could have smiled.

"Yes," she whispered. "It's Edward."

She lied.

* * *

**THREE YEARS AGO (before Bella's "change")**

She'd had many nightmares while she slept, more than a hundred fearless men could have handled in many lifetimes. She'd seen over and over and over again the horrible things she'd been though. In her nightmares, James broke her bones again and again. In her nightmares, he'd bitten her all over her body, and his venom burned her for an infinity and another. So painful was her agony, so terrible the torture, that she'd lost track of time. In fact, in her nightmares, time didn't exist. There was only one long, infinite stretch of now. She didn't even know she was asleep. It almost didn't matter if she was, because her pain was very, very real.

What made everything more agonizing was the fact that with every second that ticked by, she thought she'd already felt the worst. She thought that since she'd already had the worst, things can only get better. But every second, she was proven wrong. With every second of many days and many nights, her pain only intensified. It got worse and worse and didn't seem to have a worst. It wasn't supposed to be that way. There was supposed to be a limit to everything. Nothing was supposed to be infinite.

She screamed and screamed. She tried to reach for something, but pain shot up her arm, and her eyes flared open.

"Bella?" A familiar voice called out from the corner of the room. A man's silhouette against the moonlight. She blinked until the haze disappeared from her eyes, and she saw the most beautiful creature.

"Carlisle." She breathed. Her throat still seemed to be injured from being strangled by James. She sat up and winced. "Arm hurts... Nightmare..."

He stepped closer to her bed, the worried expression on his face glorified by the pale moonlight. His cool hands fell on hers. She wished he'd never let go. "That's the third time tonight." his hands ran up her arms, and she felt a strange spark of energy where his fingers touched her skin. His eyes widened for a splitsecond, but when she blinked, the shock on his face was gone.

Had she imagined it?

"It doesn't seem like the bone moved," said the doctor with a smile. "It's healing fine."

She both liked and didn't like the way Carlisle's hands settled on her arm. She looked around the room for Edward. "Where..."

"He's hunting with Esmé and Alice," replied Carlisle. "Everyone else is hunting, too."

She glanced at his eyes. They seemed to be jet black, but in the dim light, she couldn't be entirely sure.

"What was your dream about?" Carlisle asked softly. He ran his thumb across her cheek and it came away wet with her tears. She blinked. She didn't know she'd been crying.

Her nightmare was about many things, but one word would suffice.

"James." she whispered, warm tears rolling down her cheeks once more.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheeks. "It's okay, 're safe. You're fine now. I... _we_ won't let anyone hurt you."

She cried in his arms, her tears heavy with the fear she hadn't let herself show in front of everyone else. Bella fell apart into small pieces that Carlisle all caught with his hands. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her cheeks and forehead.

When she was finally calm, he carefully tucked her in, and before she could thank him, his lips were suddenly on hers, cool and firm. Comforting. Loving, though not in the way they should have been. It was a chaste kiss: nothing more than a simple touching of the lips, but there was a fire in it. A fire she saw in his eyes.

When Carlisle ended the kiss, she stared at him in shock. Words failed her.

He kissed her cheek once more, pulled away and smiled. "It's alright," he said, his hands gripping hers. "It's alright, Bella. Edward will never know."

He held her hand a second longer, then he turned his back on her and left the room.

Bella moved her uninjured arm and touched her lips, still feeling a ghost of the kiss she had just shared with her boyfriend's father.

His name was a whisper on her lips, sweet and forbidden.

"Carlisle."

She liked the kiss a little too much.

Even before she really liked Edward, she'd always seen Carlisle in a certain light. She didn't keep thinking about Carlisle Cullen because she was bored and had nothing better to do. She didn't like him just because he was handsome. Actually, it wasn't just his beauty that enthralled her. She also liked the sound of his voice. The dignified way he carried himself. She liked his passion for his work. He was a doctor, and surely that job couldn't have been easy on him — being exposed to all that blood and gore every day. She admired his restraint. She admired his charisma, which made several vampires follow his example. She loved his compassion for humans, and she admired the singleminded devotion that he gave his wife. There were times, even, that she envied and hated his wife for being the object of his affections, for having such a magnificent creature wrapped around her finger.

Bella loved few people.

Renee. Charlie. Edward. They were the obvious ones. Renee was her mother. Charlie was her father. Edward was her boyfriend.

But there was someone else that she loved. Someone who wasn't Renee or Charlie or Edward. Someone she wasn't supposed to love, at least not the way she did.

Carlisle.

* * *

**SEVEN MONTHS AGO**

Her father only ever asked one thing of her, and that was to never enter, or even _peek,_ into her mother's room. She had spent almost her whole life without seeing her mother, and the only image Renesmee had of her in her mind was a hazy memory of the day she was born.

Her dad said that her mother was a special immortal. He said that she was both beautiful and smart. He said she was the most beautiful and amazing creature in the world. Renesmee knew things about her mother, but she still wanted to know what she looked like. Her father said that she hated her, but if her mother saw how much she'd grown, maybe she'd stop hating her.

Renesmee had been so curious for so long.

She'd opened the metal hatch to her mother's room and peeked, and the overwhelming scent of blood had flooded her senses. The scent was familiar to Renesmee, for she had been surrounded by it when she was born. It was her mother's blood. In a flurry of panic, Renesmee had dashed to the bed in the middle of the room, and what she'd seen almost made her heart stop.

Her dad was right. Her mother was beautiful and young. She had brown hair, too, like her he said.

But she was dead.

Her mother's heart wasn't beating. She wasn't breathing.

Renesmee left to look for her father, and in her panic, she didn't notice that the metal door had been left ajar.

* * *

**THREE YEARS AGO**

Charlie was gone, and it was all her fault. She thought Charlie could save he from her god. She thought if someone knew, then Carlisle would stay away, that he'd set her free.

She remembered the awful sound of cracking bone as Carlisle broke Charlie's neck, and she realized, she had been so stupid to hope.

Because hope was a lie; a fabrication invented by the human psyche.

She only had one hope. Freedom.

But freedom was a lie. Freedom didn't exist. Not to those who hoped for it. Not for her.

Carlisle brought her back to the Facility. He hurt her again and again. Over and over he tortured her, until all pains just merged into one kind of pain, and she learned to contain that one pain until she no longer noticed it. She stopped screaming, she stopped moaning and crying, she stopped begging. Everything was still painful. She wasn't numb, for her regenerative abilities made her unable to be numb. Anaesthesia was an injury to nerve cells, after all, and she healed from everything. So she felt everything — every slice that Carlisle made on her skin, every inch of skin he burned, every bone he broke. She was never truly numb, but she had learned to deal with pain. It was just a matter of placing her attention somewhere else.

One night, one of the few nights Carlisle didn't hurt her, she fell asleep, and dreamed. She was in a hospital, and her eyes we closed. She could only hear. She heard the doctors around her saying, "She's not gonna make it."

It was a happy dream.

* * *

**NOW**

He knew there was something wrong with his hunt.

Carlisle wasn't the best tracker in the world. When it came to tracking, he was no expert. He was a dilettante at best. But even the vampire with the worst tracking skills was more than a match for one human. Granted, Bella was obviously more than just human, and if his assumption about her abilities was correct, then she could run fast, but not quite fast enough to evade him for _months_. There was also the fact that unlike Bella, _he_ didn't sleep through nights.

Something was terribly wrong. Something was interfering with his hunt. He had no problems hunting Bella when she ran away for the first time. So what was different this time?

"Daddy," a small voice called out. Renesmee.

He looked at his daughter. Renesmee didn't take after him. She was too Bella. He chuckled. Perhaps that was for the best. Bella really was a beauty, after all.

"What is it, kiddo?"

Renesmee hesitated. "What are you going to do when we get her back?"

He laughed. "I'll take really good care of her, of course."

She frowned. "Will you..." she began tentatively, "Are you going to hurt her again?"

He stopped in his tracks. Everything suddenly clicked.

He spun around and glared at his daughter, his fury overriding all other thoughts.

"You." he snarled. "You're the reason she always knows I'm coming."

Renesmee's eyes widened. She had Bella's eyes.

"Please don't be mad, Daddy," she begged. "I just don't want Mom to get hurt again."

Carlisle was too furious to listen. He stepped closer to his daughter. "How." he hissed. "How, Renesmee?"

The girl flinched, as if he had slapped her rather than just glared at her. "I... I tell her when you're near. I... tell her... with my mind."

* * *

**NOW**

He busied himself with the little things.

The way she silently rubbed her small, gloved hands together in a futile attempt to get them warm. The dried and crusted blood that stained her collar. The creaking of the old rocking chair she sat on. Her waterlogged boots that squished ever so loudly with every shift of her weight.

As Isabella Swan told him the gruesome story of her life, her strong voice rolling with a calmness that did not suit the madness of her tale, the vampire Garrett busied himself with the little things. He counted the hairs of her eyebrows. He counted her eyelashes. He studied every dip and swell of her chapped lips, and then when her lips began to seem too tempting, he counted her eyelashes once more. He had hoped to block out at least some of the words that had fallen from the girl's lips, but to no avail. The cabin was too silent, for even the termites slept, and Isabella Swan's voice was far too beautiful — far too tempting — to ignore.

As was the tale of her torture.

She knew what she was doing to him. The flickering of his gaze and his repetitive swallowing was nothing she hadn't expected. As kind as Garrett may have seemed to be, he was still a vampire. The torture she had gone through, and the pain and agony that she had experienced, were the stuff of the lustful imaginings of all vampires.

When she was done, she leaned back and smiled at him sardonically. Her eyes studied him. Garrett stared back at her. Her eyes were filled with bitterness and mirth.

He clenched his fists.

She exhaled. "Thirsty?"

The vampire shook his head. No, he wasn't thirsty yet; he had just fed from her, after all. But he was beginning to feel the slightest pangs of thirst. Isabella Swan's story excited him, and as much as he wanted to feel outraged by the sheer insanity of it all, the terrible things that happened to her — the torture that Carlisle had done to her — when she described it to him in such vivid detail, he imagined himself doing those same things to her.

He swallowed the venom that pooled in his mouth, ignoring the acidic burn as it slid down his throat.

"No," he replied, hoping that his irises had not betrayed him. "Not at all."

She smiled at him indulgently and rubbed her gloved hands together — for the seventeenth time, by Garrett's count.

"What about revenge?" asked the vampire.

Isabella Swan looked at him in disbelief. "What?"

"He did things to you." Garrett muttered. "Awful things. You should at least want him dead."

She chuckled. "I would never."

He frowned. "Why ever not?"

"I don't hate him, Garrett. I can't hate him. He's Renesmee's father."

Garrett was stunned. "Renesmee." he tested. The name was strange on his tongue, but she said it with such certainty. The certainty of a mother saying her own child's name.

"She's your daughter." he surmised. It wasn't a question.

* * *

**NOW**

There were shuffling sounds in the cabin, and light footfalls and shallow breaths that were absolutely deafening in contrast to the dead silence about the snow-laden forest. The bright sunlight seeped through his closed eyelids and he groaned in annoyance. He was exhausted — the way only a man who hadn't slept in centuries could have been — and he rolled over to block out the harsh rays of the sun.

A hand tapped his shoulder. "We have to leave."

It was a girl's voice, and it sounded somewhat familiar. She also smelled luscious. But he was tired, so he ignored her.

A hand tugged at his sleeve insistently. "_Now_, Garrett. We have to leave now."

His crimson eyes fluttered open and met brown ones. Garrett just lay there in stupor, confusion marring his beautiful face. He didn't recognize the girl who had woken him up. After a few moments, however, his mind cleared and he remembered that the girl was Isabella Swan.

She was scowling. "Stop pretending to sleep and get up already." Her duffel bag was already slung over her shoulders. "We have to go."

"_We_?" He noticed but didn't quite absorb the urgency in her voice. He sat up and noticed the cot he had been lying on. He scented Isabella Swan on the old linens. He smirked. "Weren't you so eager to be on your own?"

Isabella Swan grimaced, then nodded. "Yes. But not now. Now, you have to come with me."

He blinked. "We just got here."

She impatiently tapped her foot on the wooden floor and looked around, as if she was expecting a monster to bash through the thin and rotting walls. Garrett heard her heart beating quickly, and he frowned, more confused than ever.

"Don't be a baby," she said hurriedly. "We have to—"

Garrett was surprised when Isabella Swan suddenly gasped and ran out of the cabin. He immediately rose to his feet and followed her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Why are you running?"

But she wasn't even looking at him. "No," she muttered to herself.

The fear in her voice alarmed him. "Is it Carlisle?" He asked in a harsh whisper.

She looked ahead, as if he hadn't spoken at all. "I didn't sense him. Why didn't I sense him?"

Eventually, even Garrett sensed the presence of another vampire. He wondered how Isabella Swan had such keen senses.

"Bella!" a male voice called out. "Bella, please stop running!"

Garrett looked at the girl running with him. Isabella Swan — no, Bella — didn't show any signs of stopping.

"_Mother_."

Immediately, Bella stopped in her tracks. Garrett, confused, did the same. There was a teenage-looking girl. She had brown hair and brown eyes, just like Bella. Garrett knew she was the one who called out. Did the girl call Bella "Mother"? Bella seemed too young to have had a teenage daughter.

"Renesmee," Bella whispered. "What are you—"

"You need to come home, Mother," said the girl calmly. "Dad dropped the Operation. He swears he would never hurt you again. He wants you back, Mother. You can come home now."

She heard the awfully familiar sound of bone cracking, and Bella spun around. Garrett was on the floor, his head twisted in a strange angle.

"Garrett isn't dead," said a man's voice. Carlisle. "At least, not for the moment."

Her god found her. For some reason, she was more scared for Garrett than for herself.

"He's nobody." She said coolly, as if she couldn't care less. She knew vampires survived broken necks.

Carlisle smiled. "No, he's most definitely somebody. I know him."

"He knows you too," she said, realizing all too late that she had said too much.

"So you told him about us?" he asked with a mild laugh. "And yet you say he's nobody."

"I only told him my story so he would go away." she argued. The cold winter air blew through all four of them, ruffling hairs and flapping coats. Bella was the only one who shivered.

"You should know now that he won't go away," said Carlisle. "Not unless he's dead."

She felt her facade crack. "That's... that's unnecessary."

He chuckled. "Is it?"

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I hate cliffhangers, too. Sorry. But I've got exams, and I can't add more to this chapter, I can't postpone posting it, either, and it's long enough anyway. Just pardon the typos, if ever. I'll get to edit it soon, I hope.**

**PS: There's a side story that fits right in with this chapter. It's "Do You Remember?" by yours truly. It's Carlisle's POV of the kiss in the hospital.**


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